Authors Note: This is my first story so if there are any mistakes I apologize. (No matter how many times I read it through there is always another mistake)Please Review! It will make my day if you do :)
Disclaimer: I do not own any characters, no matter how much I wish I do. They all belong to Tolkien 'the brilliant'
Here We Go Again
Chapter One: The Beginning of the End
It was well past midnight and a small Mirkwood patrol moved silently though the trees, the moonlight glittering through the branches. The patrol consisted of six eves that were silently flitting from tree to tree. A branch snapped somewhere in the darkness. In an instant all six elves had their weapons drawn and ready. The silence stretched on. It was the shoof of an arrow and an ear splitting cry of an orc that broke the silence, then the fighting truly started. Arrows whizzed past, swords clanged, and the screech of dying orcs filled the area. Then one of the elves screamed as he was caught unaware. A sword had whipped through the air and landed with a sickening thwack in the elf's stomach. The orc wrenched the sword out and began to deliver the killing blow, but missed when a knife landed in his back. Howling in pain, he dropped his sword. Turning to face the new opponent, he ran forward, grabbing another orc's sword in the process. The elf who had thrown the knife was suddenly thrown off balance when a dying orc stumbled into him, and this was all the wounded orc needed. He drove his sword towards the elf, determined to kill his enemy before he died. Recovering his footing, the elf just barely missed having a sword right in the heart; instead he received a long, deep gash on his left arm. He could deal with that. But they were losing. One elf was down, too wounded to continue fighting, another elf trying to protect that elf. The other three were fighting half-way across the battle field while the elf with a wounded arm stood his ground fighting with a fury despite his wound.
"We must retreat," said the protecting elf.
"You…" the other began
"Think of Raunien. We have to get him away from here," the protecting elf interrupted.
"I wasn't done! You take Raunien, go back to the palace, and leave me here, and I…"
"Are you crazy?"
"Yes, but listen, you take Raunien, I will provide a distraction, get the others, and catch up to you."
"Well, if you are sure," the protector said, while unwilling to leave the other members of the patrol, he had to think of Raunien's life, for the elf would surely die if he was left unattended for much longer.
"Go!" The wounded elf yelled to his friend. The elf grabbed his wounded friend carefully, turned, and ran. The warrior elf stood there facing his foes, blood running down his arm, prepared to make a distraction to give his friends enough time to get away even if he didn't.
Legolas took a deep breath, smelling the fresh mountain air as he rode along the mountain path, looking forward to his stay in Rivendell. Aragorn, Elladan, and Elrohir, Hir Elrond's sons, had invited him to Rivendell and he had accepted with pleasure, as the life of a prince was a hard one and was not very often provided the chance to relax. Legolas had been traveling for a week already and was making good time, but he had hoped to make better time than he was already. If the elf knew his friends, and he did, they would be racing him to Govad-dôr. It had become a contest of late to be the first group there, for the brothers loved to tease Legolas if he was 'late', as Legolas prided himself on punctuality, while the brothers (especially the twins) were noticeably late for everything.
Legolas reached forward to pat his horse, Alagos's, neck. Feeling a twinge of pain Legolas glanced down at his arm, or more accurately, glared down at his arm. He hated how his tunic bulged were the bandage lay over the deep gash he had received back in Mirkwood during a skirmish. When Aragorn saw that he had been injured (not matter how long ago it had been, or how healed it was), Legolas would be smothered with concern, Aragorn would see to that. He would most likely fuss over the elf and make sure that his wound was healing nicely, which it was at the last time he had checked it, or in other words, over a week ago in Mirkwood as Legolas had been too busy to change the bandages since. The pesky human had to see every single injury that the elf ever sustained. But to be fair, one had to admit that the reason for that was that Legolas never told Aragorn, or anyone else for that matter, that he was injured until it was almost too late, and even then he downplayed it as much as possible.
Legolas ran his uninjured hand through his long blonde hair. Mayhap he should just take the bandage off; the wound was surly healed by now with no reason to keep it on. The healer had told him to leave it on for a couple more days at the least, but they were not around, Legolas reasoned with himself. As much as he liked Aragorn, he did not need to be babied like that. There really was no reason not to take it off; what Aragorn did not know would not hurt him. Swinging down off Alagos, Legolas pulled him to the side of the road and away from prying eyes. Legolas then rolled up the sleeve of his tunic. Pulling out one of his twin knives, he used it to slit the bandage open. Laying the knife down on the ground, Legolas began to unravel the white cloth. However, the cloth did not want to seem to come off. Tugging it, Legolas bit his bottom lip to keep from crying out. Mayhap this had been a bad idea after all. Finally succeeding in tearing the bandage off, Legolas could not stop his soft cry of pain. This had indeed turned out to be a bad idea. Looking down at his arm, he was dismayed to find that one of the stitches looked like it had torn; actually it looked like quite a few had as blood was once again gushing froth. All of this was for nothing.
Legolas pulled down his bags, and with only one hand he tried to pull out the bandages. Now Aragorn would know for sure that he had been injured. Fumbling with the bandages, he held one end in his teeth while trying to rap his injured arm. When he finished the difficult task, he was in a bad mood. Legolas glowered at anything and everything as he finished tying off the bandage. Even with the sleeve of his tunic covering the bandages, Aragorn would know. He always knew. It was rather disconcerting to the poor elf, really. Legolas had been able to hide almost every single injury he had received before Aragorn had been born. The human had some magic sense or something, because he found every single injury he received. Legolas groaned slightly as he swung onto Alagos again. Pulling his horse back onto the trail, he kicked her into a gallop. Narrowing his eyes, as he rode Legolas fought against the growing pain in his arm.
Aragorn sat atop his horse, Hortalë, scanning the horizon for some sign of his friend, Legolas Prince of Mirkwood. He had planned to meet the elf at Govad-dôr today. In fact, he had expected the elf to be there first as his father, Elrond, had held him up back in Imladris, needing to him to organize some paper work as punishment for the last mishap he and his brothers had caused. To his surprise, however, the elf had not been there. He had waited there for about an hour, but then he could not pass up the chance to tease the elf about being late, so he had left Govad-dôr to search the elf out. Aragorn was positive that he would meet Legolas somewhere along the path in three or four hours at the most but it was nearing darkness and there was still no sign of the elf and he was beginning to get worried. You know Legolas is right, I do worry way too much. He is a couple of hours late and I immediately fear the worse. For all I know, Legolas could have been held up a few days in Mirkwood. Still, in his heart, Aragorn could not shake the thought that something evil had befallen his friend. Shaking his head at his foolishness, Aragorn kicked his horse into a gallop. When I find Legolas, I am so going to make that elf pay for being late. Aragorn thought, idly pushing his hair out of his face. The wind was beginning to pick up a little. He hoped that a storm was not coming, but one look at the sky overhead was all he needed to see that his hopes would be dashed. A storm was coming, by the look of it would be either tomorrow or the next day. Aragorn simply hoped to find Legolas( healthy and whole) before the storm released it furry.
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